Orson snorted. “If they’d done any sort of research at all, they’d know I’m worth at least a billion. There was no point in bluffing. Not with Noelle’s life on the line.”
Okay, that made sense.
Orson pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead. “Anyway, they said I’d be fishing her out of the Sound if I didn’t figure it out. I told them that banks had closed hours ago and that I’d have to sell some assets and move money in order to come up with that. Then I told them that I could give them fifty thousand cash right now.”
A nurse approached, brushing past them into Noelle’s room. Although her unhurried state indicated no issues, Orson stepped to the door and looked inside.
Evidently satisfied with what he saw, he rejoined them. “They countered with a hundred thousand. I told them I didn’t have that in cash, but if they could wait until the banks opened this morning, I could come up with an additional thirty grand. I told them eighty thousand was the maximum amount of cash I could get to them right now, and they’d have it by ten this morning. They agreed and said they’d call me in the morning, then hung up.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?” The detective’s question contained none of the condemnation she knew he must be feeling.
“They said they’d kill Noelle. I didn’t have a choice.”
The expected answer did little to satisfy. Didn’t Orson know that kidnappers always said that?
If he’d called them, there was a chance they could have apprehended the kidnappers during the ransom drop.
The detective didn’t point out any of that. “Tell me about the ransom drop.”
“They had me put the money in a cardboard box and leave it beside a dumpster behind Noelle’s business. They said they’d release her as soon as they had the money. I had the box there a little after nine this morning.”
And it never occurred to him that these criminals might not keep their word?
“Did they call you again? Tell you they had the money and where to find Noelle?”
“No. I didn’t know what was going on until your people called and left that message.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Longest two hours of my life.”
No doubt about that.
The nurse exited the room and Orson grabbed her arm. “My daughter. How is she really?”
The nurse smiled tightly and extracted her arm. “She’s okay. Physically. If it were my daughter, I’d get her into some trauma counseling, though.”
As the nurse walked away, Orson turned back to them. “Look. I’ve told you everything I know. Are we done?”
“We’ll need to pull your phone records. See if we can’t trace the number they called from.” The detective paused, his gaze assessing Orson. “I can get a warrant, but it’ll go a lot faster if you give consent.”
Orson waved his hand in the air. “Do what you need to do. I want these guys caught.”
While the detective arranged for Orson to come to the precinct to formalize his statement and give consent, Dak jerked his head for Kevyn to follow him.
They walked a short distance down the hallway before stopping.
“What do you think?”
Kevyn glanced back at Orson. “I think he’s on the level. He didn’t handle things in the right way, but he did what he genuinely thought he needed to do to get his daughter back.”
“I agree.” Dak’s attention never wavered as Orson shook the detective’s hand and went into the hospital room. “But I’m not sure this has any connection to our case.”
“Do we know for sure that no ransom demands were made for Boggess or Andrews?” Maybe the mayor hadn’t been completely honest about it. He could have refused the ransom and was embarrassed that he didn’t do whatever it took to secure his son’s freedom.
“As sure as we can be.” Dak shrugged. “With the mayor guarding his phone records for political reasons, we can’t be absolutely certain, but he’s been pretty forthcoming.”
“If it is the same group, then Andrews would be the wild card in the mix. He doesn’t come from money, nor is he super wealthy himself, so a ransom demand wouldn’t make sense.”
The detective joined them, shaking his head. “Wish he would’ve contacted us after that call. Maybe we coulda caught those guys, but trying to find them now is gonna be next to impossible.”
Without another victim.
The thought brought her no peace.
Another victim meant another chance for things to go wrong. Which might mean a dead body at the end of the next abduction.
Seven
The bell above the door dinged as Kevyn entered the coffee shop down the street from the Federal Building.
She needed a nice strong iced latte today.
And maybe a pastry.
After ordering both her latte and the triple shot mocha Dak had requested, she nibbled her fruit filled danish while waiting for the drinks to come up.
This was her third pastry in the last week. She needed to cut back or she’d start packing on the pounds.
A man wearing a Seattle Sounders cap stopped a few feet from her.
Probably waiting for his order, too, but he was a little too close. She shifted casually, putting a few additional feet between them.
“Kevyn.”
Her name drifted across the distance. Male voice. Not familiar…
Or was it?
“I know you’re mad. You deserve to be. But can we talk for a minute?”
Mitch Taylor. What was he doing here?
“Are you following me? How did you know I’d be here?”
“I’m not… well, yeah. I hired a PI to watch you.”
How had she missed that?
“He found out that you come here almost every day around this time.”
She clearly needed to mix up her
